These Strawberry Lemonade Popsicles are the perfect tart treat for a hot summer day! They are quick and easy to put together and your kiddos will love them!

Let’s talk real talk for a minute.

I’ve been seeing all kinds of smancypantsy popsicles sweeping the internets.

And while I LOVE looking at them, admiring them, and even dreaming of eating them, they are not going to happen at my house. My husband isn’t very popsicle-ey, and my son is only 7, meaning he has no appreciation for the finer things in life.

His lunch of choice these days? A cup of instant macaronis shaped like Spongebob.

I am all about Kraft macaroni, but this instant stuff has this white powder that coats the pasta and serves as a thickener…I don’t even wanna talk about it.

Anyways, popsicles around here are simple and CHEAP. But as someone who grew up on grape Kool-Aid popsicles, I will say that these are a step up, fo sheez.

I used THIS popsicle mold and I LOVE it. Perfect size, and the handle has a drip guard to catch the mess.

These popsicles are the perfect combination of tart and sweet, and can be mixed up in minutes. You and the kidlets will love them!!

All you need is: Sweetened Lemonade Powder (I used Country Time), water, frozen strawberries in sugar syrup (thawed), a popsicle mold, and a blender. I use THIS blender for small projects like this. It’s less clean up, does a great job, and is easier than hauling out the big guns.

So, there seems to be this myth floating around that whenever you’re pregnant, everyone trips over themselves to spoil you.

Let me assure you…this is not the case.

Around other women, I probably get spoiled the most. They tell me lies about how I’m not huge at all, and how cute I am (lies, but I appreciate it), and are super patient with my eleventy zillion bathroom breaks and mood swings.

Men, however, are a different story.

My son mostly expects the same as usual. Sit outside for fifty hours in scorching heat so I can watch him cannonball in the pool. Make numerous meals of food. Sit through Madagascar 3 even though the theater seats kill my back. I accept it because he is a child and his brain is still pretty small, plus, I’m pretty sure he thinks babies appear by magic, so in his line of thinking, this makes me a wizard of sorts.

My husband is usually pretty good, and if he’s not, I moan and grab my belly as I huff and puff a load of laundry across the living room.

It works.

Other men are a totally different story.

Two weeks ago, I headed to Seattle on an airplane. Because I live in a tiny town, flying clear across the country requires multiple connecting flights, which is not exactly a dream for a pregnant lady carrying a heavy bag and constantly locating new bathrooms. And on top of it all, men at airports are jerks.

JERKS.

I was cut in front of in line to get on the plane (hello, the plane isn’t going to land any sooner if you sit down before me), cut in line at an airport Wendy’s (trust me, nothing on that menu is even worth it), not let out as I was waiting to get OFF the plane, and no one rose to give me a seat on the train thingy that takes you to your gate.

There is limited seating — basically it’s a long bar with stools that are first come first serve. After getting our cups of hot macaroni and cheese, the girls and I headed to a portion of the bar where we could stand and eat, as no seats were available.

Right as I slid my cup onto the bar so I could take a sip of my drink, a man to my left who was sitting on a stool (who, I might point out, was only eating a cheese sample and NOT a whole meal of food) got up to go get a cheese sample. And the man next to him immediately looked at me with the stink eye and said “HE’LL BE RIGHT BACK”.

HE’LL. BE. RIGHT. BACK.

Seriously. That is what this man had to say to an OBVIOUSLY pregnant women trying to eat from a cup of bubbling hot mac and cheese while standing up.

My friend Darla motioned me to a recently emptied stool and loudly said, “Here Kristan…take this seat since you’re EXPECTING” and gave him an equally stinky eye look.

Yet another example of a sympathetic woman.

By the time I flew all the way back to Arkansas, I was beside myself. I had been jostled, cut in front of, denied seats, and all around treated like some normal man-person who was not growing a life. Honestly, the more things went on, I became furious at my husband, imagining scenarios where he had possibly come across a pregnant lady and failed to hold a door open or extend common courtesy. I was like, “OMG he is so embarrassing, I cannot believe he acts like this when I’m not around”.

So then I got home and got him in trouble, and it’s all Cheese Man’s fault.

Jerky Jerk Cheese Man.

Anyways. If you have dreams of getting pregnant and life being a floaty pink cloud of magically opening doors and cushy seats everywhere you go, think again. Because apparently there are lots of people in the world who gave birth to themselves, and therefor don’t appreciate those of us who grow human beings.

FROM SCRATCH!!!

In other news, I came across these cookies forever ago in a Christmas Cookie issue of America’s Test Kitchen. I love the idea, because I love cheesecake but my husband doesn’t, so I never make one. This is an easy way for me to get my cheesecake fill, without having to use 28 blocks of cream cheese.[/donotprint]

INSTRUCTIONS

2. In the bowl of a mixer, beat cream cheese, butter and sugar on medium-high for 2 minutes. Add eggs and vanilla and mix until just combined. Reduce mixer speed to low and slowly add flour mixture. Divide dough in half, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until firm, at least 2 hours.

3. Preheat oven to 350. Line baking sheets with parchment paper.

4. Roll dough into 1 1/2 inch balls, then coat completely in graham cracker crumbs. Place 2 inches apart on baking sheet. Using a rounded spoon, create an indentation in the center of each cookie and place 3 cherries in the center.

5. Bake until cookies are cracked and set, about 13 minutes.

6. Cool on sheets for 10 minutes, then transfer cookies to a cooling rack to cool completely.

NOTES:

Makes about four dozen.

[donotprint]Sometimes a girl just needs a cookie that is really cheesecake in disguise, you know what I mean?